


Narcotize

by hoxadrine, squiggly_squid



Series: Idiosyncratic Assassin [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoxadrine/pseuds/hoxadrine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/pseuds/squiggly_squid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True to his nature, Ares doesn't hesitate when given the challenge to find a target.  When said challenge comes from a user named 'HurricaneJuanita666', he collects his things and prepares from the hunt and resulting game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcotize

He is awake long before what time a sun would rise if this Ward wasn’t in a permanent state of twilight, lit only by the glow of businesses and lights along the buildings for the safety of the skycar drivers.  As he does every other time he finds himself with nothing to do, he checks his Omni-Tool for any notifications or alerts. 

Nothing from his contacts shows, meaning he has absolutely no work as of now, and he sighs in frustration before moving on to more trivial notifications.  He hates the time in between contracts and the stillness it brings, but at least he can use the extranet to hound others in his only attempt and normalcy.  When he finally comes to his most current mail, he finds a message left to him by one of the more playful users on ‘Assassins Unveiled’.  Chuckling at the thought of what they have to say, he opens it and reads silently.  

_ Citadel, one hour, close to This One's Lingerie Emporium. _ _  
_ _ Check over for some hot chick in a short green dress, and we'll see if we can bang that gun of yours ;) _

Stepping from the balcony railing, Ares heads into the apartment that still smells of grime despite his attempts to get the owner to clean.  It doesn’t matter all that much now.  He doesn’t expect to be without work much longer and will soon move on.  Going into the bedroom, he grabs his clothes and leaves Charles sleeping as he steps back into the hall to dress.  

Last thing that needs to be done it to make himself ‘presentable’.  He has one more set of facial plates and vial of paint left before he’ll need to return to his safe house for more, so he doesn’t have many options.  It doesn’t really matter as he shrugs to himself on the way to the bathroom.   _ HurricaneJuanita666 _ isn’t looking for exotic face paints.  Although, if they are into it, he wouldn’t be against the use of paints in other places. 

First to be set into place are the silicone pieces of artificial plates.  He coats the scarred side of his face with the glue whose smell stings his nose, lining up the piece and sealing it into place.  Ares gives it a good look to check the edges before grabbing the small jar of paint.  Skilled in nearly all colony designs, Ares paints on the sharply angled lines of a small city on Palaven in subdued green.

Necessary work done, he heads out of the apartment and down to the streets.  He pulls his hood up out of habit and pulls out the box of his cigarettes to slide one out.  As he walks, he takes the smoke in between his mouth plates and fetches the old lighter he was given and flicks it open.  Steeling himself against the jump of his heart he knows will happen, he jerks his thumb against the spark wheel and growls lightly at the burst of the tiny flame that erupts.  He cups the flame to protect it from the air wafting by at his pace and lights his cigarette, closing the lighter and returning it to its place in his jacket pocket. 

It isn’t that long of a walk to a transit, it’s hub almost completely empty with everyone still in the Markets down the Ward or bed, and he gets into a cab without trouble.  Going off of the communication he received, he sets course for Tayseri Ward and sits back to smoke as the skycar guides itself through the light traffic.  He isn’t in any real hurry to get there both because of the lack timeframe, but also because he doesn’t plan to immediately show himself.  Years of paranoia have taught him to be the one stalking prey instead of being the hunted.

He arrives near the hanar lingerie store before he even finishes his cigarette and decides that’s a good enough cover to disappear into the crowd.  After all, the Wards have rules about where one can smoke out of courtesy and there just so happens to be a designated spot situated in a way that he has a perfect visual of the storefront while remaining hidden himself.  

The small shaded alcove where he leans against the tree to relax is devoid of companions that may try to spark up conversation and he takes his time to relax and enjoy watching those that have no idea an observant eye is following.  After a time, his Tool pings once in alarm that the hour is up and he looks down the stretch of walkway to see a tall, dark skinned human female with a puff of hair and green dress walking towards the shop.  Has to be her.  Always the one to gauge the field before moving into battle, he flicks off ash and waits to see what she’ll do.

* * *

 

The first thing that Angie does is to light up a cigarette, heading out from the shop in quick and decisive steps. She consciously lets her hips swing a little more than necessary in her way to the streets, taking a long puff and enjoying these little moments of bliss where she can just focus on herself, extra work and the store be damned. 

Oh, she did want to get laid. When was the last time she took someone into her bed?  _ Ay, ay, ay, losing your track of time again, Angs? _ A low and cheerful voice whispers to her, inside her mind and almost makes her accidentally spill her ashes close to her expensive tight dress. She rolls her eyes and snorts in response but stops in her tracks, looking for a place to sit while waiting for her newfound companion to appear. She really isn’t up to do a lot of pacing, not with the high heels she’s wearing, after all. 

Taking her cigarette into her mouth and holding it between her lips, she takes the advantage of freeing her hands and quickly opens her Omni-Tool to check at the time while also looking for new intel to read.  _ Great, another useless week _ is the first thing that comes to her mind when she finds absolutely nothing new in her messages box. Not having recent news from Barla Von upsets her.  More so when that sick son of a bitch of a volus was promising her better intel from the Blue Suns’ slave trading business for more than three weeks.  

Yeah, she can be patient, it is a well needed perk of being a Shadow Broker agent after all, but when it comes to her sister, Angelica is anything but. And, worst of all, she is sure that Von is pretty much aware of that. 

She feels like she has just had her free day ruined just by the thought of the volus possibly playing her for an  _ idiota _ .  Using the remains of her cigarette to light up another one, she feels like she’s losing what’s left of her patience and self-control. 

And what about that guy she was waiting for?  _ A ‘guy’? _ The voice asks her,  _ How are you so sure that they’re a guy? _ Angie snorts in annoyance at that. Of course she knows that  _ ThisGuy800 _ is a man. She’s been tracking him in that forum and she wouldn’t be accepting to meet before having some certain information, after all.  _ Ah no, I’m certainly not going to agree to fuck some stupid hanar, Juanita. Even _ I  _ have some limits… _

Her left hand twitches, all of a sudden, and she closes her Omni-Tool and tries to find another thing to do with her fingers before they start to shake and tremble again. Idly scratching her right shoulder where the scar of a bite is placed, Angie adjusts the bottom of her dress and rises up from her seat by the shop quicker than she wants to. She lets her feet lead her to the corner of the street in a sudden rush to just, _move. Walk. Think of something else, Angs. He’s going to show up anytime and then you can go to your place. Just move, carajo!_

She tries to come up with something to clear her head and not think about what she would rather be doing in that moment, so her mind drifts into her little knowledge of  _ ThisGuy800 _ . She knows he’s a turian from the couple of details he had given in previous threads. She also knows he’s the teasing type of guy.  _ Ah, and I’m so good with that _ , she thinks with a little smirk coming on her lips. Consciously noticing that her mood is improving for a little bit, she lets her mind to drift into more thoughts of this mysterious guy, biting her lower lip about the possibility of  _ ThisGuy800 _ being a turian.  _ Ay, ay, ay, Diosito, let him be a turian and I promise I’ll behave with Barla Von. Alright, not ‘behave’... but I’ll be nice. _

* * *

 

“What’s your poison?”  His gravelly voice seems to snap the woman from her thoughts.  Oh, he’s been watching her pace, mind somewhere else - Spirits know where - and he wasn’t all that surprised that she walked this way without knowing.  After all, habits are something that’s hard to break and she must be used to being told to take her smoking to this very spot on her breaks from her work.  

Ares watches the woman’s shoulders relax from the tensed state she was wearing as she paced before and stays silent as she takes a long inhale of her cigarette.  Once drawn in, she lays a hand on her hip and exhales a lingering billow of smoke.  Quirking her lips, she lifts the smoke between her first two fingers and says, “What?  This poison?”  

He rumbles in amusement at his suspicions being proven right about her showing signs of withdrawal by her shaking hands and distracted pacing.  “Well, it wouldn’t really be a good idea to have any of the others out on the street.  Wouldn’t want C-Sec up your skirt,” he teases with a flick of a mandible.

“Oh?  And if I don’t mind people messing with my skirt?”  

Taking a slow inhale of his own cigarette, he flicks off ash before exhaling.  “Then I’d ask you where are these other poisons you’re insinuating.”  

“You might want to come to my place and look for yourself, cariño,” she responds with a cock of her hip and widening of her smug smirk.  

Deciding that he’s played the game long enough, he steps into her personal space with a growl.  “You’re quite the hurricane,” he says with a smirk of his own, referring to her screen name.  “But, tell me, where does the six, six, six come from?”

The woman chuckles softly and raises a brow.  “Ah, not familiar with humans?  Or does eight hundred mean something in particular?”

His brows drop in a slight scowl as he dabs his cigarette out in one of the outdoor ashtrays.  “It does, but if I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Oh, I enjoy a bit of a risk.”

Ares smirks and growls low, lowering his head to speak into her ear.  “Then how about you show me the way to your place?”

“Now we’re talking, handsome.”

* * *

 

“Good thing that you finally showed up,” Angie says to the turian, guiding him through the hallway of her building and swinging her hips purposefully, pretty much aware of how the slight stretch of her waist with the movement can turn on a turian in delicious ways. “I don’t tend to take rejection pretty well, and I must say that you took your sweet time in finding me.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine without me,” he responds with a rumble, the heavy thumps of his boots behind her as his shadow occasionally falls over her from behind with each hall light they walk under.  

She thanks  _ Diosito y la Vírgen _ for remembering that Omni-Tools can also work as keys, because her hands are certainly not up to the task of finding the metal ones inside her small purse given the small but noticeable trembling she has right now. Relying on what is left of her self-confidence--but also aware that, noticing the knowing hum coming from the turian behind her, he has already noticed the shaking of her hands--she tries not to give that much importance to it. Opening the door to her place with a quick swing of her Tool over the lock, she lets the door swish open for them. 

Angie swallows the knot that had formed in her throat, but doesn’t look at her companion over her shoulder as she takes decided steps into the living room. “Feel free to make yourself at home. I’m sure that there is dextro food in the fridge and inside some of the cabinets,” she informs the turian with a wave of her hand to the kitchen while sitting heavily on the sofa.  Stretching her legs onto the coffee table and kicking her high heels out, she groans at the sensation of her feet finally being free from their torture and wriggles her toes in the air while letting her shoulders and arms rest on the back of the sofa to lean her head back. 

_ Ay, Angs.  _ The female voice in her head tsked in some sort of disapproval.  _ Is that the way for you to greet people into your house? That’s rude, you should mind your manners _ . Angie certainly didn’t give much thought about her manners, or even consider who she was really inviting into her place.  If she had to be honest, she was good with having some company once in a while, but who would keep up with her lifestyle, after all? 

“And I’m just supposed to eat alone?” The turian’s voice is a raspy, deep timbre, one that is very different from most turians Angie's has met or, hell, slept with.

Angie shrugs, not caring to open her eyes and barely lifting a hand to turn on the music. “I had breakfast at the store, but I was just thinking that you should probably eat something first,” she answered, her ears filling with some low and meaningless song after turning the apartment speaker system on. 

The tall male shrugs and ignores her offer as he, instead, walks into the living room.  He stops and crosses his arms, leaning his weight to the side.  She’s pretty sure he’s making some smug face by his rolling vocals, but she can’t be sure as he says, “I’d much rather get moving.”

“Oh, well then, let’s see what you can do.” She can’t help a little smirk crossing her lips at his proximity.  _ You’re not just ‘good’ with some company, Angs. You certainly  _ need _ one.  _ Angie grunts low at the voice inside her head, almost reaching the limit of her patience and decides to occupy herself by stretching to the side. Her hand looking for the small drawer hidden under the coffee table, her fingers snatching the flask inside the drawer. The muscles in her neck and shoulders unconsciously tense in anticipation and her heart races, giving her some newfound energy.

Her guest growls and walks to the couch, sitting in a way that his weight pulls her closer to him.  “I believe you promised to show me your other poisons before we begin this,” he responds with a low growl in the back of his throat, gloved talons sliding along her leg but stopping just before getting to the real sensitive spots of her thigh.

While another song comes from the speakers, Angie tries not to shiver so much at his touch and leans over the coffee table. Absently humming the lyrics, she picks up the tools she needs for her planned task. The turian doesn’t move as she removes two reddish pink stones from the flask, placing them on the table.  She then grabs a small knife and crushes the stones, her fingers and nails helping to turn them into dust. With her mouth watering in anticipation, she licks the tip of her first finger and dabs it in the pile on her table, covering it with the pink dust.  Stroking the inside of her lower lip, a small groan escapes her lips at the acid on her tongue and tickling in her lips.  Her eyes flutter at the sensation, drifting closed for a moment. 

_ ThisGuy800 _ \- because she doesn't know his actual name - leans over and collects dust on a now ungloved finger.  Thrumming deep enough that she feels it against her side than hears, he looks to her and runs the finger over her wet lips before leaning close and following with his rough tongue.  She opens unconsciously to offer admittance, but he pulls away in tease, offering a second dose of the powder on his pointed talon. She can’t help but laugh at his movement, biting her lower lip and glancing his way to give him a knowing smirk.  

“This is usually when you open to take me in.”  He smirks back with a rumble and lifts his sand coated finger to ghost over her lips.  

“Then maybe you should join me, handsome.” She smiles at him and leans over the table, moving the pile of sand with the small knife to form a line.  Covering one nostril with two fingers, she drops her head and sniffs in the line of sand. Her head lolls back, returning to the back of the couch, and her eyes drift closed at the sensation, a small satisfied moan escaping her lips. “Oh, _ Dios mío _ … that’s better.”

* * *

 

Ares raises a brow as he watches the woman inhale deep before flopping back against the couch.  Sure, he’s all for a bit of recreational drugs, but he didn’t think she’d need to get completely shit faced high to fuck him.   _ Don’t know if that’s an insult or something what will make my job of keeping my identity secret easier. _

When she finally opens her eyes and looks to him, he makes a show of using her too small knife to pull aside a line of sand.  Leaning over, he locks eyes with her and lets his long tongue slide over the smooth glass surface, tingling with the acidic sting.  He smirks inwardly when he gets to see both the darkening of her eyes and scents her arousal wafting through the air.  The former can be aresponse to the drugs, but he knows the latter has nothing to do with being high.

As he sits up, he motions her to take her turn at the sand.  “I don’t think we’ve come to terms with what to call each other.   _ ThisGuy800  _ and  _ HurricaneJuanita666 _ ,” she tenses just slightly at the mention of the name, but he continues without acknowledgement of the slip of emotion, _ “ _ are just too much of a mouthful.”

“Angelica. That’s my name.” Her tone speaks of his words hitting a nerve and he charts that away.  There are always benefits in knowing more than others want you to have your hands on.  After a moment, she shrugs and looks at the red powder on the table.  “Just call me Angie, alright?”  

He nods and leans back on the couch, laying a leg over his knee. “Titus.”

“You don’t look like a ‘Titus’.”  She shrugs, sullen.  “But whatever.”

“And what  _ do  _ I look like?”  Interested, he raises a brow.  He’s definitely interested in finding out where this line of thinking goes.  There aren’t very many names out there he hasn’t already used at least once, so he guesses she’ll gain at least partial credit for her guess.

“Mmh.”  Her hum is long, drawn out as her smile returns and she, too, leans back against the cushions.  Angie even lifts a brow to match his while she nibbles her lip in an effort not to show the amusement she’s trying to hide.  “For a handsome turian like you, you need something stronger, more masculine.”  Her lips quirk as she blatantly looks him from crest to boots.  “And definitely a longer one if you’re actually trying to say something with that ‘800’ thing.”

“Oh?”  He growls and flicks a mandible.  “And what would that have to do with my name?”

“Hopefully, that might mean something good, cariño ” she answers, letting her tongue roll with her words as she leans ever closer.  The tips of her fingers ghost over his clothed arm temptingly.  He watches her fingers, but doesn’t yet move from his relaxed posture until she adds, “You don’t have to be afraid of the ‘hurricane’.”

His chuckle is like gravel rolling down a hill as he leans closer and slides his hand into her hair to ease her head to the side.  Leaning down, he growls and drags his rough tongue along her pulse.  He feels her head lean into his palm in permission to continue as she hums.  “That’s nice.”  She huffs a breathy sigh.  “Thank God for turian tongues.”

_ Humans and their thinking aloud _ .  The thought has always been amusing and one he takes advantage of as he nips the tanned skin before licking the slight welts his teeth leave.  The moan that draws from her is choked in attempt to hold it quiet and it only spurs him on to draw more, louder cries of pleasure.  Growling even deeper, he tightens his hand in her hair and trails teeth up her neck and nips at her ear.

Ares can feel Angie fidgeting beside him, her scent growing with each pass of teeth over her slightly salty skin.  He can feel her hand gripping onto his shirt and slides his other hand along her thigh, reaching higher than he did before.  Purring in her ear, he rumbles more than says, “Here or your bed?”

“Fuck the bed…”

That’s answer enough as he shifts his hand to palm her groin, running a finger along the crease of her panties and finding them thin and disappear between her cheeks.   _ Thong _ .  He remembers that from enough women and, though he doesn’t see the reason behind it with all the mixed explanations, he sees the benefit.  One that he will use without hesitance. He pulls his hand from beneath her dress and hears her whimper in want, but ignores her as he shifts to dip his now wet finger into the sand.  “Lift your dress.”

Angie doesn’t even seem to need time to think as she grabs the hem of her dress and wiggles to pull it up and around her waist, freeing her heavy scent with minimal need for assistance.  Kneeling between her legs, Ares pushes aside her thong and slips his sand coated finger into her already wet cunt.  She moans a loud curse of something in that untranslated language she keeps using and lays her head back against the top of the couch.  “Fuck… Fuck.”

Agreeing with her reaction, he flicks his mandibles and leans forward, growling at her natural musk.  She must feel his breath because he immediately feels one of her hands grip his fringe tightly in need.  He isn’t one to make them wait, or let the sand completely dissolve, and closes the distance, sliding his long tongue into her.  Her sound is like a whimpering whine as her thighs tremble around his head and he lets a deep vibration shoot up his tongue and into her.  

When he begins to feel her grow tense, Ares steps away and smirks at her whine of disappointment.  “Front or back?  Ass or cunt?”  

“Definitely… no ass…”  She pants and looks up at him with desire and drug dazed eyes, her temples glistening with sweat as she weakly grabs for him.

“Facing each other or not?”

“I thought you would like to see me ‘bounce’,” she says with a smirk, a bit of her control returning now that he isn’t torturing her with his tongue.  

Chuckling darkly, he motions her with a hand as the other strokes the bulge in his pants.  “Question is, can you even manage not to bounce  _ off  _ me and onto the floor.”

She huffs a laugh and her lips quirk in a smug smile.  “Ah, you think you’re the only tease?”  With the kind of fight he was looking for, she jumps at him. He lets her have the upper hand at least for now, stepping back and falling on the couch with her over him, smirk on her face.

“I still just see teasing.”

Obviously taking his challenge, he growls as she drops her head and bites at his hide, pulling what little isn’t scarred between her teeth to tease.  She tugs and grips his shirt in uncoordinated attempts to get it open and he uses her focus on his neck to distract her enough to grip her ass and grind her soaking panties against his constricted cock.  She moans and bites harder, giving him the cue to stop playing and fuck already.

Snarling, he sits up and pulls her off him and forces her to the ground.  She’s been with a turian before, he can tell by her mark, but the size isn’t male.  It’s female.  Whether or not Angie’s been with a male turian or not, she’ll have the experience now.  

Her small hand grabs his spur and pulls, challenge in her face as she rolls onto her back.  He leans into her grip and drops to that knee before snatching her wrist and twisting it off his spur.  He knows she’s too drugged up to resist the move, so he doesn’t fear accidentally breaking her hand, but does use the grip to roll her back over on her belly.  

She kicks her legs a bit, so he straddles her thighs, clothed cock rubbing between her legs.  “I said no ass, cariño.”  She snarls as she bucks, showing her teeth over her shoulder and he chuckles.

“I’m not deaf.”  _ Just half blind _ .  “You aren’t my first human.  I know what goes where.”  She tires lifting up into a more comfortable position and he pushes his hand on her back.  “The safe word is ‘hurricane’.  Understood?”

She struggles a bit more before he adds more weight to her back and finally hears her grunt. “We won’t need one,” she says with a huff, almost pouting at losing the struggle. He’ll take it both as understanding, agreement, and acquiescence.   She’s feisty, that’s true, but no human attitude is match for the very thing she’s agreeing to.

Snarling, he leans down and latches his teeth around the back of her neck in silent warning not to move unless he guides her.  He won’t bite down, not when he has no reason to, but she has been with turians enough to know the silent signal and relax in submission.  She’ll fight when she sees the opportunity, he knows, but she’s his for now. 

Lifting her with his teeth on her neck up onto her knees, he reaches beneath her and simply cuts off her thong with his talon.  “Ow, that was a gift,” she says with a tone that he knows well enough would come with a ‘you’re buying me a new one, tough guy’ as so many have said it before.  He chuckles and slides a finger into her, making her pout turn into a gasp as her back presses to his chest.  

Once the initial surprise of his insertion washes over her, Angie’s hand searches the air for him, running over his face and mandible before rubbing beneath his jaw.  He rumbles to tell her that’s a good place to stay as he helps support her weight while sliding his finger out to circle her clit.  She hisses to mask her whine as her shoulders arch into his chest and her fingers grip tighter onto his jaw and the rug beneath them.   “Oh, please…”

He releases her neck to whisper huskily in her ear, a smug grin on his face.  “What?  Tell me.”

“Oh, Dios mío, have mercy on me,” she whispers, not really at him, but he understands well enough.

Pulling her hand from his face, he leans up and presses her to the floor, her ass still in the air.  Said ass wiggles in the chill left behind and she pants with her cheek against the rug while he uses his free hand to release himself.  Ares’ hand leaves her back in expectation that she stay there before it moves to grip her hip. Lining himself up, he growls when he hears her speaking lowly again as she shifts to spread her legs.  “Oh, you don’t know how much I missed turian cock...” 

Normally, he’d make them work for it after such an admission, but the haze from the smaller dose of sand has him not caring for the struggle and fight of sex.  Instead, he rests himself in her folds and shoves in completely, growling at her yelp of surprise that is laced with a satisfied moan.  The unexpected entry has her clenching over and over as she tries to grow accustomed, but can’t seem to get over the initial pleasure.

Hands free, he takes her hips and looks down as he slowly pulls his blue cock from her spread lips to watch how it appears out by seemingly magical means.  He is coated in their combined fluids and, when he begins to thrust with hard, steady thrusts, he can hear them make wet sounds.  She moans and unconsciously clenches each time his ridges stroke within her, as if trying to keep him buried deep.  

Vocals rolling over the two of them, he runs a hand along her spine, talons leaving white trails in the tanned skin and causing her to arch with little whimpers, he hears her speak again.  “Don’t mind the marks, honey.  Or, be my guest, and leave more.”

Her husky tone and offer makes his blood hum and he snarls as he slides a hand under her shoulder to yank her back over him.  She cries out in pleasure and he growls deeply as he latches his teeth around the ball of her shoulder, hips pounding into her with brutal speeds.  Her skin makes a slapping noise against what parts of his plates are exposed with his pants pulled down and he can feel her trembling, growing tense.

Knowing a way to push her over, he sinks his teeth through the thin skin and immediately taste the metallic tang of her blood.  She screams in ecstacy and bucks, trying to fuck herself on him.  “Yes!  Please!”  

Holding her with teeth and hands to keep her from moving, he angles his hips to cause his groin plates to rub her clit as he rams into her, grunting and growling against her skin as he tongue flicks over the flesh between his teeth.  She clenches around him with a loud, piercing scream as her hand scrambles to his fringe, and he thrusts a few more times before groaning deeply in pleasure as he fills her with his hot seed.  Letting her come down as he licks at the wound, he feels her hand tighten, nails digging in as her eyes close and breath pants.

* * *

 

She takes away the offending cloth, her skin feeling like it’s on fire, and takes quick,shallow breaths to calm her racing heart from the previous activities. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feels a little disappointed for being so naked and having a turian behind her still clothed, but that thought drifts away and disappears just as fast as it came when a hum of approval ghosts close to her back. 

Titus pulls from her and she can hear the shuffle of his clothes being returned to their place.  He stands and offers a hand.  “Got a balcony?”

She waves her hand to a spot behind the turian, showing him the way to her bedroom, “Through that door, head for the window. You might want to lift the blinds, though,” she informs him, using the offered hand to stand up and kick the remaining of her clothes over the sofa. The temperature feels cool over her skin and she welcomes the sensation with a stretch of her arms over her head, slowly feeling her senses and composure returning.

She abandons the sand and items spread over the coffee table, deciding to take care of them later. After a long stretch and a satisfied groan, she heads to the kitchen to grab some drinks for her and her turian companion, swinging her hips in her way through. “Want something to drink?” She asks without turning back, her voice loud enough for him to hear her, although she’s aware that he can probably hear her anyway. “Hopefully you don’t mind about me walking through my place naked…”

“Not at all.” He rumbles and follows her to the bedroom and out onto the balcony.  There, he takes out a cigarette and old lighter, tarnished with age, and winces slightly when he flicks it on.  It is only there for a moment, though, and gone as soon as he lights his smoke and flicks the lighter shut to go back in his jacket pocket.

Angie decides to watch him, throwing herself in her bed and liking the feel of the silk sheets on her belly and breasts, stretching a hand to the small table next to her to search for a cigarette. It’s a bit of a difficult process -leaving her beer on the floor and trying to light her cigarette holding herself in only her elbows- but somehow she’s able to take a small puff and grab her drink again. 

She returns to the first and more interesting task of watching his figure on the balcony, half of him clouded in shadows while his favorable spot stands out with the lights from the street. “I noticed that, you know…  _ Titus. _ ”  His name rolls out of her tongue in a mocking and amused tone, holding her jaw with one closed fist and letting her legs dangle off the bed, adopting a little playful pose. 

“Yeah?”  He shrugs, not looking her way.  “And?”

“You know there are lighters that don’t actually use fire, no?” She lifts a brow, taking a sip of her drink before continuing, “You know, Omni-Tools have a feature, and maybe you can avoid that fire close to your fa--”

“This has meaning to me,” he interrupts, leaning on the balcony railing and taking a breath from his cigarette to blow it slowly over the edge. 

“I’m not lecturing you,  _ cariño _ , just giving you some advice.” Her feet lift to hang in the air, pretty much aware of her naked state--but it’s not as she’s ashamed of her body--and shifts in her place to cup her jaw in her free palm, not really able to take her eyes away from his figure. 

Flicking off some ash,  _ Titus  _ hums from his place and says, “I don’t think I need to tell you this can’t leave this apartment.”

Angie laughs at his statement, moving a hand to flick the ashes of her own cigarette away from the bed and onto the carpet. “Who said anything about leaving?” She jokes, her tone light hearted and warm on her lips. But when  _ Titus _ \--and she was sure that it wasn’t his real name, but she’ll have to work with that--doesn’t respond, she continues. “By the way, I don’t think I need to tell you that my name can’t leave this apartment either.”

“I don’t take my pleasures with me.”

“Good. But, then again, who said anything about leaving?” Her mouth contorts in a pout while she shifts in her spot to leave her cigarette on her night table, sliding off the bed. “The day just started, and it will be a shame if you leave just now, you know…” She continues while grabbing a loose shirt that hangs loosely off the headboard.  _ Mmh, looks like I need to clean this place _ . 

“You know I don’t mean that.”  He looks over to see her raised brow and rumbles.  “I know this place didn’t come on a cashier’s salary.  You have secrets of your own, so let this be one of those.”

Taking her beer from her spot on the floor, she adjusts her loose shirt and heads to the balcony, joining him with another cigarette. She leans on the railing, imitating his posture, but takes notice on the way one of his hands barely twitches and tenses. She leans away from him, not coming closer and into his personal space.  _ Can’t never tell with turians, after all _ , she thinks while trying to light her new cigarette and hiding the fire coming from the lighter to not startle him again. “Looks like you are quite the observant turian. That’s good.” She scratches the back of her head, trying to loosen a few knots close to the back of her shoulder and moves some dark curls away from her face. “So, what else have you noticed, handsome?” She decides for a playful move, curling her lips into a smirk and leaning with one elbow over the railing, decided to take a good look at him.  

He shrugs and dabs out the cigarette.  “You live loosely, don’t like commitment, and you take drugs to hide from something.  I would guess from thoughts of a particular person.”

“Can’t it just be because I like it?” She decides for a nonchalant pose. 

“No.”

“Doesn’t look like you don’t like it, either, you know.” She shrugs, but something coming from the back of her mind encourages her to be more honest to him. “But yeah, you guessed right. However, I thought you wouldn’t be accepting of my offer, given those fake plates on your face. I take it that they don’t hurt you or something? Do you even feel anything over there?”

“No.” He answers plainly once more, not looking away from the expansive Ward.

“That’s good, because I’m not sure that you can actually have something better than what I have on my coffee table.” She follows his eyes, taking a slow puff of her cigarette and relaxing at the view in front of them, suddenly feeling glad for picking her place as being on one of the top floors of the building. “Well, maybe you do if you come to be in Omega, but I don’t recommend you to head to that station. Bad clubs, and certainly awful hotels.” She can’t help to shiver at the memory. “Also filled with that scum of the Blue Suns…” 

“The Blue Suns don’t just exist on Omega.”

“There are few records of them on Illium or in here as well,” She says with a grunt coming out from her lips, and she can’t help but look for some more information he might give her. “But maybe you can enlighten me on that? Giving that you seem to come from Illium, after all...” She gives him an up and down look, trying to prove her point with looking at his clothes. 

“I come from everywhere.  Why?”

She rolls her eyes at his flat tones. “Do I need to tell you why or suddenly you’re not guessing anymore?” This time she leans her body to fully face him. “Don’t worry, though. You already know that these lips are sealed...”

He exhales with a heavy hum.  “What do you want to know?”


End file.
